The Wrath Of Bowen
by Sheila Waters
Summary: A face from his past threatens Bowens new-found happiness...


**THE WRATH OF BOWEN**

Midsummer brought a heatwave with it and as another day dawned, more stifling beams of sunlight. Bowen stirred in the bed; he was sweltering. Humid air hung in the chamber, it was like a volcanic cave. Turning his head on the pillow, his eyes fell upon Kara deep in slumber beside him. Kara; his very reason for living. Rolling closer, he brushed his lips to her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered; she moaned and rolled in the opposite direction, putting her back to him. Despite the heat, Kara still wore her shift, whereas he was naked beneath the linen sheet that was drenched in his own sweat.   
In eighteen months of marriage, she hadn't let go of that last vestige of modesty. She had learned how to seduce him; to accept and enjoy their lovemaking and even lie naked with him at its conclusion, but she never came to bed naked as he did. Still, it was a trifle; it mattered little.   
Fighting his way from beneath the tangled sheet, Bowen crept beyond the screen dividing bed-chamber from day room and headed for a water butt beside the hearth. Scooping up as much water as his hands could hold, he sluiced his face with it. It went up his nose; into his hair and trickled down his torso. It felt so good that he repeated the action, allowing the cool liquid to shower his entire body; yet it wasn't enough. Quietly, he padded back to the bed-chamber; dressed and left the lodge.   
Down in the compound - below the huge man-made mound of Freyne's old, wooden fortress - Bowen headed to the stables, saddled his horse and rode out of the massive gates, heading towards the river. 

********** 

Swimming helped to cool down Bowen's over-heated body, yet even as he rose from the river, events were being set in motion that would send his blood to near boiling point.   
He roughly mopped the excess water from his body with his shirt before struggling back into his breeches, hose and shoes. As he picked up his shirt, his horse snorted; Bowen looked about cautiously for the other animal his own had sensed. He spotted both mount and rider on the trail leading to the fortress; more than that, he recognised the horseman and dashed to his own mount, hurriedly pulling on the shirt as he went.   
Kicking the steed into a gallop, Bowen raced for the fortress that was now his own home. He intercepted the rider at the gates and slewed his horse across in front of the other.   
"What are you doing back here?"   
"To finish what we started all those years ago. How's the shoulder, Bowen?" smirked the dark-eyed man.   
Flexing his shoulder-blades, Bowen well remembered the assassin blow that nearly cost him his life. "Why did you never face me with honour? You had three years in which to challenge me; I was here," growled the knight.   
The man laughed scornfully. "Honour?! You speak of honour! She'd still be alive if you'd acted with honour!" he shouted across at Bowen.   
Bowen scowled. "You didn't answer me." Nor did he receive one then for eye contact was broken. The rider sat staring past Bowen's shoulder. Swivelling in his own saddle, his stomach somersaulted as he beheld the reason for the man's interest. "Kara, go back!" he shouted, waving his arm at her.   
"Who's the whore, Bowen?" leered the horseman. "Nice body!"   
Whipping his head back around, Bowen rasped his answer through clenched teeth. "That's my wife!"   
A great rumbling laugh erupted from the rider's throat. "A peasant?!" he scoffed.   
Ignoring the taunt, Bowen dismounted and - keeping his eye firmly fixed on the man - repeated his command to Kara. "Go back!" but she still came forward. He shoved her away.   
"Why? What's wrong?" she queried, glancing up at the stranger. In that split second, she took in a dark-haired man sitting tall in his saddle; that fact alone marked him as a knight at least; plus, he wore a sword and she realised Bowen's caution. 'Only expose your back to a corpse,' had been shouted at Einon in her earshot and Bowen was unarmed. His nose almost touched hers. She blinked.   
"Please," he begged in a hoarse whisper. "Go back inside."   
"Looks spirited, Bowen; all that wild, red hair. A good ride no doubt."   
Marching back to the horse, Bowen snatched at the bridle, yanked on the bit and declared: "You always were foul-mouthed, Eadrys!"   
The horse shied, forcing its rider to grapple for control of the reins. At last he brought the creature to order. "Who did she belong to? The local swineherd?" Eadrys spat back, glaring down at Kara.   
"Shut up!" barked Bowen.   
"Tut, tut; calm down, Bowen. I see you're unarmed; where's your sword?"   
"I didn't think I needed it here; but if you're looking for a fight, it can be arranged," smirked the knight.   
"Anytime, brother; anytime," Eadrys challenged. "Can we fight for her... favours?" inclining his head towards Kara. He suddenly tilted backwards out of his saddle as strong hands unhorsed him and pinned him to the ground.   
With one knee beside Eadrys, his other between the man's splayed legs and his hands at the nobleman's throat, Bowen bent over so his face was but a breath away from the man beneath him. In grating tones, he said: "If we fight, we fight for what was left undone between us."   
"Huh," croaked Eadrys. "What else was - 'undone'," and he sniggered, "fifteen years ago? Whose bed did you warm to get back into Freyne's service?"   
"I didn't need to resort to lechery!" Bowen defended hotly. "My worth was recognised and my skills put to use; if you say different then you'll soon learn the extent of those skills!" To add weight to his warning, Bowen allowed his knee to connect at Eadrys's groin as he got up off him. Something between a yelp and a groan slapped Bowen in the face.   
Rolling in the dirt, Eadrys gasped: "You... owe me... a debt... of honour." Clawing his way to his feet, he staggered to his horse, mounted with difficulty and issued a threat of his own. "You haven't seen the last of me; you or your whore!" Pulling his horse's head around, he kicked its flanks and sped out of the compound.   
Bowen watched until Eadrys was out of sight and then faced his silent wife. "Don't say a word!" he warned, waving a finger at her. "Not here!" and he stalked off. 

********** 

Bowen reached the ante-chamber but a moment ahead of Kara. He was hot and sweaty again and in a foul temper, even the happy gurgles of his infant daughter couldn't quell the anger boiling inside him. Pouring spring water into a pewter goblet, he swigged it down, refilled the cup then tipped the contents over his head, wiping the excess from his face with his sleeve. He heard Kara's footsteps in the passage and turned to face her - and her questions.   
Closing the door for privacy, Kara stepped towards her husband. "Who is he, Bowen?" she asked, gazing into a mask of worry lines and anger.   
Bowen sighed. "His name is Eadrys," he answered wearily, avoiding her eyes.   
"Yes - that much I heard," she answered testily. "He called you: brother. Is he your brother? Why is he here?" moving to stand by his elbow.   
He knew she wouldn't let it rest; knew he had to tell her all. He dared engage her eyes - then swiftly cast down his own. One look at her burned him up; one look, enough to stir his blood.   
"Tell me," she demanded, latching onto his sleeve.   
Pushing back his almost-dry hair with both hands, he eyed her purposefully and said: "He's Moire's brother," then awaited her reaction.   
She frowned and pursed her lips. "Her... her... brother?" she stammered. "But; he's dressed as a nobleman, Bowen," as if he didn't know.   
"You're very observant!" he joked; but the humour eluded her.   
"So she was a real lady," Kara added.   
"An earl's daughter no less," Bowen confessed; but knew her meaning, "and above me - yes."   
"Just as you are above me," she said sadly.   
Bowen winced at the simplistic statement. "I married for love; her - and you. We cannot choose where our hearts will lie."   
"Marrying you made me a lady; what did marrying her make you?"   
"An outsider," he said sternly.   
"Why?"   
"Some considered that I stole her from her intended husband."   
"Stole?" Kara said nervously. "You abducted her?!"   
"No! No; I did nothing against her will," and he regarded Kara with a pained expression.   
"Then why is he so angry?"   
"He blames me for Moire's death." The pain extended to Bowen's voice as he recalled.   
"That's ridiculous!" Kara said hotly. "If Nerys is correct, she would likely have died anyway." The words had been automatic; only when she saw their impact upon Bowen did Kara apologise. Laying a hand on his shoulder, she said: "I didn't mean to sound so callous."   
He slumped down onto a bench; she sat down beside him and laid a comforting hand on his knee. Picking up the hand, he laid it against his heart, turned bright blue eyes upon her and confessed: "Perhaps my virtue slipped in regard to Moire. I was only twenty years old when we met; she was sixteen - three years later, she was dead. The rest, you know."   
"But not this. Why not this?" she said, suspicion in her amber eyes.   
Bowen hesitated. "Because she was intended for someone else," he said cautiously.   
"But you were legally wed?" she insisted on knowing, since betrothal could cancel out any other marriage.   
"Yes, it was legal; no other contracts had been sealed."   
Kara could feel Bowen's heart hammering beneath her hand; feel the heat on his skin where her fingers touched inside the open lacings of his shirt; she sensed his anguish though. "You never need to be afraid to speak her name to me," she encouraged.   
He kissed her fingers. "I know, and am grateful to hear you say it." He paused. "It's another name I'm afraid to say."   
She understood. Holding the eye contact, she said it for him. "Einon. How?"   
"Freyne wanted to ensure that his son had a suitable wife. He arranged the marriage when Einon was only eleven years old - subject to the boy's approval of course," he added with contempt. "Draco spoke the truth; Einon was a spoiled child - by his father at least. I was sent to bring Moire to meet Einon - to bring her here... I was young; idealistic; keen to serve my king," and he smiled at the memory. "Even then, Einon was my pupil; his previous tutor hadn't been able to handle the boy - but I'd only taught him the simple moves; teaching him about the Code came later."   
A wry smile marred Bowen's grim expression. "It was Aislinn who had me reinstated for that purpose. She desperately wanted Einon to learn it; to make him a better king than his father."   
"He was born evil," Kara said with conviction. "How else do you explain his nature?"   
"I can't," Bowen whispered, squeezing her hand then laying it in his lap. Keeping hold of it, he took up his tale. "So I brought the girl here; Eadrys came as her chaperone. She was fair-haired; pale-skinned and had soft, grey eyes... " His voice had sunk to a low growl as he remembered. Clearing his throat, he continued: "Moire didn't like Einon."   
"Smart girl," Kara complimented.   
"Mm. I'd tried telling her about the boy I knew - thought I knew - but I believe she saw the real Einon long before anyone else."   
"Women are gifted that way."   
Bowen peered at his wife. "So were dragons," he said in his own flash of inspiration. "But during these discourses, she and I fell in love; I never looked for it and even tried to deny it."   
"So what did you do?"   
"We had to elope; I took her to my mother. Our two years together were happy ones." He fell silent; drained.   
"How did Aislinn find you? I can't imagine you came back voluntarily."   
"I didn't. She was a practitioner of the Once-Ways; ways known to Merlin and the dragons - to my mother," he divulged. "Freyne was never aware of the power his queen held; maybe no Saxon can ever know it."   
"What of Eadrys?"   
Bowen rotated his shoulder. "He's the one who ambushed me; gave me this scar," indicating his back.   
"So why is he here now?"   
He shrugged. "I don't know; I wish I did."   
"Will he really come back?"   
"I'm certain of it, and when he does, I'll be better prepared." He stood up and crossed to where his sheathed sword hung on a support pole. "I'd hoped never to need one of these again," drawing the blade from its scabbard. Flourishing the reforged weapon, Bowen   
gripped the hilt firmly. Its blade no longer carried the groove put into it by Draco all those years before, but it was in essence the same sword that had served him until Einon had shattered it.   
Einon. It always came back to Einon. His spectre still haunted Bowen; the memory capable of stripping away all that he had built up in the last year and a half. Then he remembered the Code: 'his wrath undoes the wicked' and found renewed purpose. 

********** 

A storm threatened. The air hung heavy with it and purple clouds gathered in the sky; it would be another hot and humid night. As the summer sun set and Kara busied herself settling their daughter for the night, Bowen gazed out of the open shutters to the prematurely darkening sky. He needed to see Draco's constellation; yearned to find the one star he'd watched ascend to join its ancient comrades.   
"Ah, my friend," he murmured, "what should I do? Seek out Eadrys or wait for him to come to me?" He was convinced that somehow, he'd receive an answer. As he watched, something bright appeared from behind a black cloud.   
One tiny light began to grow and glow more red than silver. It rotated and took a curved path to the horizon. Bowen's eyes grew wide and transfixed, for the red beacon swooped and hovered directly before him. A tongue of gold flicked out to touch his forehead; he gasped at its cool caress. Then a warm, familiar voice spoke to the knight.   
"Remember the Code, Bowen and use it to your advantage. Don't let your wrath get the better of you. Purpose not passion was a good lesson; mark you learn it."   
"Bowen?" the soft feminine voice called.   
Flustered, he whirled around. It shouldn't have surprised him to see Kara behind him but he felt acutely embarrassed somehow. Perhaps it showed on his face too for he felt the added heat in his cheeks.   
She approached him; gazed up into a tanned and careworn face and smiled at him. "Did you find your answer in the sky, Bowen?" she questioned softly.   
"Yes," he rasped, "I did."   
"And what was it?"   
He reached out to touch her hair; the hair that had first caught his attention in a burning village so many years before. "I must not lose my temper," he told her and stared at his feet. "An old master reminded me of a valid lesson: purpose, not passion," he repeated.   
"There are degrees of passion," she said in a sultry tone.   
His eyes flew to hers in shocked understanding. "Yes," he whispered.   
Her hands linked into his to be swallowed up in their massive grip. "Come to bed," she invited.   
"My mood is sombre, you may find me poor company," he excused, letting go of her hands.   
"Then let me quell your mood," and she began to unbuckle his belt.   
He let it fall to the floor, wondering how far she would take this for she'd never before attempted seduction until they were actually in bed. Smiling at her, he watched as she reached beneath his tunic to fumble with the fastenings of his breeches. Shaking now, Bowen snatched at the roaming hand, his eyes questioning her intent. He got an answer.   
Dumbfounded, he saw her hands pull at the lacings of her own shift; slip it off her shoulders and let it slide, silently down her body to the floor.   
"Kara," he groaned, bending to capture her in an embrace. He smothered her face and neck in passionate kisses; allowed his hands to caress her naked flesh and the tide of desire rose high and fast. Sweeping her up in his arms, he carried her to their bed, laid her down then - as swiftly as he could - stripped and knelt beside her. When her arms rose to pull him down, he surrendered gratefully and forgot all about Eadrys as he made love to the woman beneath him. 

********** 

The drumming of heavy rain brought Bowen out of a love-induced slumber. He grappled to come awake in the sultry atmosphere that still pervaded the chamber and flung his arms out wide, soon realising that he was alone in the bed. Smiling at the sweet memory of Kara's seduction, Bowen stretched his long frame on the sweat-soaked sheets. A tingling in his loins   
threatened an encore, so with a reluctant growl, he rolled out of the tangled mess, hunted for his breeches and tugged them on.   
His eyes fell onto the crib tucked under one of the open shutters. Walking over to it, he looked down at the small body inside. "Well, little one," he addressed his daughter, "where's your mother gone?"   
The half-year old kicked her feet, waved her arms, gurgled and giggled at the giant leaning over her cot.   
"Come on then, let's find her." No sooner had he scooped up Gwyneth and set her on his hip than she wound chubby fingers into his long hair and slobbered down his cheek. "Not much of a kiss, lass!" he jested, planting a proper one back on her cheek.   
Carrying Gwyneth out of the chamber and into the passage, Bowen called out Kara's name. His curiosity had dropped to a level of concern; it was pouring with rain outside and Kara had no reason to be out in it. He decided to search; but alone. Along the passage, he knocked on his mother's door.   
Nerys was surprised to see her son. "What's wrong?"   
"Have you seen Kara this morning?"   
"No." Seeing her grand-daughter in Bowen's arms, she reasoned: "Maybe she's in the kitchen; she wouldn't have gone far and left her, now would she?"   
"No, but... Can you take Gwyneth please? I have to find Kara."   
"Why the urgency?"   
"Eadrys came back yesterday," he answered grimly, pushing Gwyneth into Nerys's arms.   
"No!" she gasped. "Why now?"   
He snorted. "It's time I found out." 

********** 

Dressed for travel, Bowen went down into the compound; across to the stables; saddled his horse and galloped out of the fortress. There were fresh hoofprints in the soft mud beyond the gates almost obliterated by several sets of footprints and the steady downpour. He dared guess that it was Eadrys's horse and took up the trail across the pasture towards the forest.   
Once in among the trees the prints stayed cleaner, easier to follow; but Bowen's mind was not easier. He was being led in the direction of Kara's old village. The rain eased a little as he reached the village perimeter. Reining in his horse, he dismounted and stooped down.   
"Damn!" he cursed; he'd lost the tracks. Leading the mount, he walked up to Hewe's hut and called out for the man.   
Within moments, the one-eyed peasant appeared from behind the canvas screen. "Bowen," he greeted in surprise, "what brings you - ?"   
" - have you seen Kara? Or a mounted stranger?" Bowen interrupted sharply.   
"Kara? No; not for several days." Hewe stepped outside, barefoot and wearing only his shirt. "I did see a horse a few days ago. Is something wrong?"   
"She's missing. I found tracks outside the fortress leading here - almost - I lost them on the outskirts." He was angry and impatient.   
"Rain'll wash out anything; especially how it was last night."   
"That's what worries me. Where did he go?   
"Do you need help? I can rouse some men to search," Hewe offered.   
"I hoped you would, Hewe; thank you. You search around here, I'll pick up the trail again; maybe I missed something."   
"As good as done. Why are you so worried, Bowen? Kara knows this land."   
"Because of the stranger. He was once my brother by marriage." Swinging up into his saddle, Bowen rode out, leaving Hewe gaping in surprise. 

********** 

Picking up the trail again was relatively easy for Bowen; however, he could have sworn it hadn't been that clear on the way out. Suspicious, he pulled up his horse, dismounted and crouched down to examine the hoofprints more clearly.   
"Sweet Jesu!" he blasphemed, "these are heading back to the fortress!" Remounting, he kicked the animal into a full gallop, arriving back at the pallisaded fortress in less time than his outward journey.   
Just as he'd feared, the prints led into the compound then towards the granary. Fear now replaced his curiosity as he dismounted and walked up to the barn doors. Lifting the bar, he edged one of the massive doors open. Creeping inside, he looked about him as he went; unsheathed his sword and trod stealthily, ever cautious of his exposed back.   
The barn was devoid of grain but not of the tools of farming. A large cart stood in the centre of the vast emptiness; around it were scattered stalks of straw. Frowning, Bowen moved nearer, bracing himself for attack with every step. The bed of the cart too was strewn with straw and his eyes grew wide as he perceived a movement in it.   
Approaching the shaft - its end on the ground thereby tilting the cart's back in the air - Bowen levelled the tip of his sword into the straw. "Come out!" he commanded, "unless you want to taste cold steel!"   
A muffled response greeted Bowen's challenge and the hidden shape shook vigorously; vigorously enough to dislodge straw and reveal a shock of red hair.   
"Kara!" Sheathing his sword, Bowen darted forward, scrabbling away at the straw to reveal his wife, gagged with a strip of cloth and bound hand and foot. "Are you alright?" he asked anxiously, tugging the gag out of her mouth.   
"Gwyneth," she mumbled through bruised lips.   
"What?"   
"Where's our child?" as she struggled with her bonds.   
"With my mother. Why?"   
"Cut me loose!" she demanded.   
He did; but would have liked a word of thanks or explanation before she dashed past him and sprinted out of the granary. Miffed, Bowen muttered as he followed in her wake. 

********** 

Kara was charging through the lodge yelling for Nerys. When Bowen caught up with her, he was only one step behind her as she entered the woman's chamber and he collided with her as she stopped dead in her tracks.   
"Kara - " he began to scold until he saw the reason for her suddenly halting. "My God," he breathed, hurrying ahead of his wife. "Mam!" he screamed, falling heavily to his knees beside a huddle of flesh and fabric on the floor.   
"Bowen," Kara called softly, joining him in pointless vigil beside the crumpled corpse. "She's dead, my love."   
The hand on his shoulder sent a shiver through Bowen and his head whipped around to see who dared. "She can't be," he denied, for all that he knew she was. The huge red stain on the front of her gown and a great pool of blood on the boards, were enough to tell him the bitter truth.   
"I'll find Brother Gilbert," Kara said, pinching Bowen's shoulder.   
"Why? She's beyond healing," he admitted.   
"To pray for her soul."   
"Huh!" he snorted. "She wouldn't thank you for letting a Christian priest say words over her!"   
"Does it matter?"   
Rising swiftly, Bowen declared harshly: "It's a matter of respect! She was my mother!"   
"I'm still going to look for him, maybe he has Gwyneth," and she left.   
Left alone, Bowen stared at the body on the floor, unable to truly comprehend what his mother's death would mean. They'd been estranged for fifteen years; a good portion of his entire life, and only the last fifteen months - Kara's pregnancy and the arrival of Gwyneth - had he healed that breach.   
He'd promised that she'd guide her grandchild's first steps; a hollow promise after all. There was only one person to blame for this - Eadrys. Then Bowen realised with gut-wrenching horror that in his immediate reaction to seeing his mother, he'd forgotten all about the infant he'd left in her charge. It was a lame hope that Brother Gilbert had the child. Grief slammed home and Bowen wept.   
And that's how Kara found him; still on his knees; fists clenched over his eyes and shoulders shaking as silent tears streamed through his fingers.   
He sensed her presence even before she touched him; knew he could rely on her to do the right thing so allowed her to wrench his hands away; submitted to the tender kisses on   
his cheeks and welcomed the arms that slid gently around his neck. Bowen clung onto this woman and sobbed quietly into her hair.   
His throat hurt; his eyes burned and he never knew his heart could surrender him to such anguish again. Grappling with his emotions, he stood up, stiffened, sniffed and croaked: "Did you find Gwyneth?" lending Kara a hand as she rose to her own feet.   
"No, Bowen; but I did find Brother Gilbert," and she stepped aside, allowing him to see the priest.   
Bowen's anguish increased as he beheld the bruised face of the monk who had become a friend. "Brother Gilbert," gasped the knight, "what happened?"   
"I heard shouts, Bowen. Your lady mother was wrestling with a tall, dark-haired man - "   
" - Eadrys," Bowen snarled.   
"She was cursing him; calling down Pagan names upon his head. When I came in here, he turned upon me. I'm sorry, Bowen," and he hung his head, "I tried, believe me... "   
Bowen laid a comforting hand on Gilbert's shoulder. "I know, my friend." He sniffed back his tears. "Did you see him take Gwyneth?"   
"No; he knocked me to the floor; I lost my senses; when I awoke, she... " he gestured to Nerys, "she was as you see her. I looked in the crib; the child had gone. That's where I've been - looking for her, since Nerys was beyond... " a tear trickled down the monk's cheek and - much to his surprise - he was hugged fiercely by Bowen, then found himself in a three-way embrace as Kara was drawn into her husband's arms too.   
Letting go of both, Bowen swiped away his own tears as he gathered his composure. "Will you guard Kara for me, Brother?"   
"Why?" she asked. "Where are you going?"   
Glancing at her, he explained: "I must find Gwyneth."   
"No, Bowen!" she said forcefully, "that's exactly what he wants! You!"   
"He can have me!" retorted the impassioned knight, "but not the innocent!" and turned on his heel.   
Kara clutched frantically at Bowen's tunic. "I was the decoy; now you walk into a trap!"   
He rounded on her, opened his mouth but Hewe's voice, yelling his name, sent him spinning to face the open door.   
The peasant hurtled through the open portal and gaped to see Kara standing in the chamber. "Oh!" was all he could manage. To Bowen, he tendered the question: "Where was she?"   
"Tied up in the granary. I've been duped, Hewe; my mother has been murdered and Gwyneth taken."   
Shocked, Hewe said: "By this man you spoke of? You were wed before?"   
"Yes; it's a long story and I have no time. Stay with Kara and Brother Gilbert, I have to find my daughter."   
Hewe winced when he saw Gilbert's bruises. "Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?" he offered Bowen.   
"No - thank you; I have to meet him alone. I will manage that better if I know you are here to lend your help; he may yet double back." Bowen smiled weakly as Hewe nodded. With a fervent embrace for Kara, he hurried out of the chamber.   
"May God go with him," prayed the priest.   
"Amen to that, Brother," Hewe added. 

********** 

Kara again turned healer and applied salves to Brother Gilbert's bruises. Then it was time for holy ritual as the priest spoke a prayer over the corpse of Nerys. After, Hewe lifted the broken body and carried it down to a small room on the lower level where it was much cooler.   
That done, Hewe set the group of men who had accompanied him, to guard the entrances; then he returned to the ante-chamber in the high lodge - where he'd not been before this day - and prepared to keep vigil with Kara for Bowen's return.   
"He should have taken me with him," the peasant complained. "At least to watch his back."   
"I agree," Kara said. "Eadrys already tried to stab Bowen in the back."   
"When?"   
"Many years ago," and she launched into the sad tale of her predecessor and the tragedy surrounding her. 

********** 

Bowen began his search with all the out-buildings. He flew through stables, dairy, animal barns, tannery, forge and weaving shed of the small village that had sprung up in the compound of Freyne's one-time fortress.   
Finding nothing to give him any hope, he turned circles in the centre of the compound itself. Gazing up into a watery, grey sky, he let out one full-throated bellow of anger mingled with anguish.   
"Where?!" he yelled at the elements. "Where would he take a child?!"   
Take - or just hide? Eadrys had hidden Kara - and close to home. Home. But the lodge had already been searched, by Gilbert and Kara. Then Bowen remembered. Just as Einon had incorporated a secret entrance into his own rennovated castle, so had Freyne caused to be set into the wooden fortress, hidden panels and compartments.   
Cursing his own stupidity, Bowen dashed back to the mound and forced his aching legs up the incline to the lodge. Once inside, he kept to the lowest levels of rooms and plunged into one of them.   
However, he was immediately brought to a grinding halt as he beheld his mother's body laid out on a bier straight ahead. Panting, he skirted the corpse, going to the outer wall. Crouching down, he touched a roundel of wood carved into the structure. Pushing it, he looked down past his knees. A panel slid aside and a tiny sob drifted out to greet him. Reaching inside, his hand found a soft, warm, wriggling bundle.   
"Come here, lass," he said emotionally, "we're going home." Relieved to find Gwyneth unharmed, Bowen put her against his shoulder, stood up and turned around. Walking past the bier, he put out one hand to caress the cold cheek. "Thank you, Mam," he mumbled, "you saw her safe after all." Impulsively, he bent to kiss the chilled skin. "My love goes with you," then he hurried out of the store-room. 

********** 

Three quiet figures sat in the ante-chamber, huddled together despite the warmth of the day. Kara had ended the tale of Bowen's wife, earning herself surprised gasps and glances as she'd spoken.   
"The man has known heartbreak," Brother Gilbert commented.   
"Yes," agreed Kara, half of her mind elsewhere; wondering whether her child lived or not. She'd not dared let Bowen see the level of her anxiety but it was now beginning to gnaw at her.   
All at once, she, Gilbert and Hewe heard agitated footsteps in the passage; as one body, they rose from their seats; two and a half pairs of eyes darted to the doorway and all let out a sigh of relief to see Bowen with Gwyneth in his arms. Kara was the first to move.   
"Oh, sweet, are you alright?" plucking the unconcerned infant from her father's arms.   
"She's fine," Bowen assured, relinquishing his child with a grimace. "Wet; but fine!"   
"Where did you find her?"   
"In the store room below; there's a hidden compartment there that Eadrys would have known about; but not you," addressing all three of them. "Now," he said directly to Kara, "I want to know how he got you out of here."   
"We'll leave you then, Bowen," Hewe said, pulling Gilbert by the sleeve.   
Bowen put a hand on the big peasant's chest. "At least stay and eat; I owe you much for this morning's work."   
"I didn't do anything; you found them both."   
Eyeng Hewe, Bowen shook his head. "You gave me peace of mind. Brother Gilbert will take you to the kitchen; feed your men too."   
"Thank you, Bowen," and he slapped the knight on the shoulder. "Come on, priest; have you any good ale down there?"   
"Plenty," as he led Hewe away. 

********** 

No sooner had the two men departed than Bowen embraced Kara, shaking as he kissed her hair. "Tell me all," he urged with a grate to his voice.   
"I woke hungry," Kara began as she and Bowen sat down on a bench. She smiled at him. "Your loving does that to me sometimes."   
He answered her smile with a gentle squeeze to her shoulder.   
"So I went down to the kitchen. I'd just cut a hunk of cheese when I heard a footfall; I naturally thought it was Brother Gilbert since he's the only one awake so early. But it was Eadrys. He stood blocking the doorway; hands on hips; drenched to the bone yet with a swagger about him that frightened me. I asked him how he'd got in. He answered: he knew doors I didn't."   
"He does; as I've proved."   
"So I asked what he wanted and he leered at me; much as Einon had done."   
Horrified, Bowen rasped: "He didn't - ?!"   
" - no, Bowen," smoothing away his frown with her fingers. "He talked," and she tossed back her hair. "He wanted to know if I'd: 'had a good knight'; but he meant had you and I... " She sighed. "He said I could have done better than you; that he's an earl not just a knight."   
Bowen ground his teeth together and his face flamed at the insult. "What did you say?"   
"That I have a good man; a man who cares for me, who loves me. Being bedded is a physical act - no more... not a pleasure." Her eyes lowered. "I told him he was too late in that regard, Einon had already done what he sought to do."   
A faint smile curved Bowen's mouth. "Thank you for the compliment!"   
"It's the truth; and you know I've always spoken the truth." Engaging his eyes once more, Kara put out a hand to one of Bowen's as it lay in his lap.   
Gripping it firmly, he urged her to carry on.   
"He made a wild grab for me; he was so strong," she marvelled, "I was taken unawares. An arm was twisted behind me and - despite my struggles, for I kicked him soundly - he tied my wrists together. Then, to silence me, he bound a strip of cloth around my mouth and hustled me outside; slung me up on his horse and we rode out - "   
" - towards your village."   
"Yes. But then, just as we were in sight of it, he turned the horse around and rode straight back here. He rode into the granary, pulled me off the horse and threw me into the cart. You can imagine my fears..."   
"Yes," Bowen whispered. "But he didn't harm you at all?"   
"No. Oh, he touched me," and it was her turn to pinch his arm. "Slid a hand up my leg; stroked my... my... bosom." She hated telling Bowen and the look on his face only confirmed his anger, disgust and perhaps, even jealousy. "Don't look at me like that, Bowen; a touch, that's all, it was his words I feared more."   
"What words?" still glowering at her.   
"They are meant to bait you too. He said... he... promised that next time, he'll give me a better ride."   
"He'll need to get past me first!"   
"That's why he said it, Bowen. You mustn't seek him out. Leave it be. I am safe; Gwyneth came to no harm - "   
" - have you forgotten my mother?! He murdered her, Kara! Am I supposed to let that go unavenged?!" he shouted. "Well I cannot; I will not!"   
"But you don't know where he is," she reasoned. "Nor do I."   
Bowen stared hard; his brain whirled from all the day had brought him. 'Purpose, not passion' echoed in his head. It was true, Eadrys wanted Bowen to burn with rage; to be consumed by anger to the extent where he'd be an easy target. That brought another thought.   
"So he's afraid of me."   
"What?" Kara queried.   
He took her hands in his own and smiled slyly. "He doesn't think he can best me in a fair challenge - he never could - so he strikes at my family. Maybe Mam's death was a mistake -little comfort in that! You must take care," he implored her. "I'll ask Hewe and the others to remain here, and I'll show you all where those hidden doors are. We must be prepared, love, for he will come back."   
His hands went up to her face; fingers burrowed deep into her hair and he kissed her mouth tenderly before embracing her. "Are you still hungry?" he mumbled.   
"Starving."   
Putting her at arms' length, he smiled. "Then pick up your daughter, Madam and we'll go to breakfast." 

********** 

Once the storm clouds had rolled away the sun shone again, soon drying out the mud and puddles in and around the fortress. Hewe and his followers remained there for three anxious days without a sighting of Eadrys. On the fourth day, Hewe told Bowen that he had to go home to his own family. Reluctantly, Bowen bade farewell to the peasant band and seriously began to consider training a permanent garrison for the fortress. As always, he put forward this new idea to Brother Gilbert.   
"It would be sensible, Bowen," the priest agreed. "There are often marauders out to plunder any place not protected, and this is a vast complex."   
"Will you help?" he pleaded as the two walked the passages of the lodge.   
"How? I am a priest."   
"And a gifted archer," Bowen reminded him.   
Halting, Gilbert grinned at the praise. "You want me to teach others?"   
"Yes; young men would respond to you. I can show them sword skills and teach disciplined moves. We trained an army once - remember?"   
"I remember," as they began to walk again, "and had hoped never to need those practices again," Gilbert said with regret.   
"So had I; but we have to defend ourselves; each other, and I cannot do it alone, Brother." For once, Bowen's ready smile was absent.   
The priest understood his friend's anxiety and nodded concurrence. "I'll help; gladly."   
Bowen flashed a smile then led Brother Gilbert down into the compound to begin a new recruitment programme. 

********** 

The air reverberated to the sounds of wood clashing together; arrows whining and men grunting and groaning as training began. A good portion of the men in the compound had survived the battle against Einon, and now attemted to pass on what they'd learned to a batch of over-eager, hot-headed youths.   
"No!" bawled Bowen at two such young men. Striding up to them as they stood - wooden swords still raised - the knight issued his most famous command. "Only expose your back to a corpse!" he repeated. "Force your opponent away from you, never allow him the chance to strike at your back."   
"But, Bowen - " one began.   
" - you can only die once, Ralf."   
The youth smiled; not at the remark but because the teacher knew his name. "It's not easy, Bowen," Ralf excused.   
"It never was. Here," and he took the training weapon from Ralf's partner. Threatening the boy, Bowen said: "Now try with me."   
He did; soon learning that feet played as important a part in a fight as hands; or even head. Trying to deflect blows aimed at every part of his body, Ralf was pushed further and further towards a line of archers. He knew they were behind him and glanced over his shoulder. One second was all it took for Bowen's wooden sword to poke Ralf in the ribs.   
"Keep your mind and your eyes on your opponent!" barked Bowen.   
"But... what about my back?" the confused youth demanded.   
"In battle, you need to be like an owl - all round vision!" grinned the knight. He batted the boy on the shoulder with the 'sword'. "Try again," he encouraged.   
Again turned out to be more than once. Bowen drove his pupil to exhaustion; not out of spite but because he recognised a talent in the boy; a talent that would serve everyone well if it were hammered into a disciplined skill.   
All morning, Ralf had the attention of the knight - to the envy of many others - learning lessons and earning praise from the man many would have considered old enough to be the boy's father. Perhaps Bowen needed to behave like a doting father; had his own son lived, he'd have been Ralf's age, a fact the boy was unaware of.   
Kara interrupted her husband's lesson with a welcome drink. "Don't drive the boy too hard, Bowen," she pleaded, putting down the water bucket. To Ralf, she said: "He's a good teacher though."   
"Yes... madam," panted the boy.   
"Not: madam; Kara," she allowed.   
Bowen sniggered. "My wife is proud of her roots!" he told Ralf.   
"S - sir?" Ralf stammered.   
But the answer came from Kara herself. "I was a peasant, like you." Seeing his wide-eyed stare, she queried: "You didn't know? My father was Raigon; I came from Hewe's village."   
"Oh," Ralf mouthed in greater surprise, sparing a momentary glance at Bowen.   
"Honour can be earned," Bowen preached to Ralf, though his eyes strayed to Kara. "Birth has nothing to do with it. All these men," indicating with a broad wave of his arm, "who now teach, earned their honour two years ago. You could be a knight, my lad."   
Ralf scoffed. "There is no king to make me so!"   
"Who needs one! I can proclaim it and Brother Gilbert will seal it. We live in a new age now," he added solemnly.   
"We do?" the boy queried dubiously.   
"Believe it!" Bowen affirmed with a paternal pat on Ralf's arm. "Enough of this talk; back to practice."   
Kara took her refreshment around to all on the training ground then drifted back to the mound. One of the grubbier peasants limped into step behind her; always keeping several paces distance between himself and the woman with the flaming thatch of curls.   
He followed up the curving incline leading to the huge lodge perched atop the man-made hill, but as the ground levelled out at the top, his limp miraculously mended. Quickening his pace, the man caught up with Kara and grabbed her from behind.   
"Time for that ride!" rasped Eadrys and he clouted her on the back of the head. 

********** 

Kara came to a dizzy wakefulness. She felt sick and her eyes refused to open. Groaning, she tried to move and discovered she was tied to something. Her eyelids flew up and revealed the awful truth; she was back in Einon's chamber!   
Wriggling, she found herself tied to a heavy chair by wrists and ankles; her head thumped back into a carved support causing her to wince as pain shot through her skull.   
Bright sunlight streamed into the shutterless opening in the stone wall. The large hearth was devoid of fire and cobwebs hung everywhere and across every last stick of furniture - save one. Straight ahead of her - on the raised dais at the end of the room - stood Einon's square bed, draped with dust-free covers. Sitting on top of it, munching on bread and cheese, gloated Eadrys.   
"Welcome to my domain, strumpet," he simpered, sliding sedately off the bed. He staggered slightly as he descended the steps.   
Pursing numb lips from having been gagged, Kara warned the man lurching towards her: "Stay away from me, lecher!"   
He laughed. "And how do you propose to make me - harlot?!" he literally spat into her face, crumbs cascading down the front of her gown.   
Turning her head to avoid his stale breath, Kara knew he was right, so tried a different approach. "Why have you brought me here?"   
"He owes me." Straightening, Eadrys tottered to a table, picked up a gilded goblet and filled it from an ornate flagon. Gulping the contents, much of it then dribbled down his chin.   
"For what?"   
"Stealing her away from her intended husband," he slurred.   
"A monster!" Kara declared.   
"A prince!" he countered. "She would have been a queen!"   
"Better a slave than married to that!" retorted Kara vehemently.   
Eadrys swung around and almost collided with the chair. "I forgot; you've had experience of Einon. Too rough for you, was he?"   
"Rape is ever rough," she replied shakily.   
"Is it? And Bowen; how does he treat you, eh?" bracing himself on the arms of the chair and drooling bread and wine down onto her.   
She grimaced. "I told you; gently," she said quietly.   
"I can be gentle," and he stroked down her bosom with one finger.   
Jerking, she managed to dislodge him but her heart hammered and her belly spun. "Not as caring as my husband."   
"Try me," and he caressed her cheek.   
Kara gritted her teeth. "No!" snapping her face away.   
"Is it his child?" Eadrys wanted to know, yanking her chin around.   
"Bowen is her father; yes," she gasped, her eyes watering from the pain.   
"How can he be sure of that?" Fascinated by her, he slid one finger across her mouth.   
She bit into the finger. "Because he knows me."   
Suddenly sober, Eadrys back-handed Kara across the face. "Whore!" he snarled.   
"I'm no whore!" she screamed. "I am legally wed; just as Moire was!"   
He snatched at the front of her gown with such force that it ripped almost to her waist, exposing all her cleavage. Pushing aside the torn fabric, he smiled appreciatively. "Nice," as his hand groped at the rounded breast. "Still feeding the child I see," he remarked.   
Kara shuddered and closed her eyes to stem the tears that threatened. She daren't let him see her fear and revulsion. "Yes," she whispered, "and she'll soon have need of me."   
"I can help relieve your distress." He knelt, stripped the gown from both shoulders and began to massage her breasts.   
She shut her eyes tight; this wasn't happening - not again... 

********** 

There was pandemonium at the fortress. Bowen was frantically searcing for Kara in no quiet or calm manner - he bellowed at everyone for information. Truth to tell, no one had seen any stranger, least of all a horseman. It was Hewe who dared bring the tall knight to his senses.   
"This does no good at all!" the peasant bawled back. "You knew he'd return! He tricked us all, Bowen!" shaking the man by the biceps. "Now - think! Where would he have taken Kara? Where could he keep her and lie in wait for you?"   
Bowen did think; staring into Hewe's one good eye proved to be a good focus. "Einon's castle," he decided. "It's deserted; he can stay there as long as he needs."   
"Right; then we - "   
" - no, Hewe, this is my fight. It's me he wants; if I go there with any form of help he may kill Kara." Seeing Hewe's dejected face, Bowen consoled the man. Clapping him on both shoulders, he said: "Thank you; I appreciate your offer. Please, guard my daughter until I bring her mother home." 

********** 

Darkness was falling by the time Bowen even sighted the abandoned castle. This place held so many memories for him. When it had been just a Roman ruin, he had brought the young Einon here to parry and thrust amongst its crumbling walls. Those had been happy days - for Bowen at least - mentor and pupil; teacher and student; or so he'd believed. It didn't take Einon long to turn the place into a symbol of despotism; a beacon of his tyranny as the new king.   
Now it was a stark reminder of things lost; Kara's innocence and Draco's life. Perhaps he would add his own honour to it, for Bowen cared little for the Old Code as his horse clattered over the moat bridge. However, he hoped nothing else would be lost in this place for all he intended to take Eadrys's life. His stomach hit the saddle pommel as he rode under the main gateway's arch. He felt physically sick.   
Once in the courtyard, Bowen gazed cautiously around it. Nothing had changed since he'd returned on Draco's anniversary a little over half a year before; it was as if the place slept. The scaffolding was still in place; the bucket, suspended on its rope, swung gently in the summer breeze - how different from the winter's night when he'd been the one swinging in the cold air.   
Shaking his head to dispel the morbid memories, Bowen listened for signs of life. Hearing none, he dismounted, drew his sword and advanced towards the doorway of the keep. His eyes were drawn upwards as he edged across the cobbles and he frowned. There was a faint flicker of light high up in the tower. His shoes were silent on the stone; the only sound coming from the creak of the bucket in the rising night wind.   
Inside the keep, Bowen cautiously climbed the staircase to the upper levels. He wasn't sure where he was going but the sliver of light beckoned him. A board floor passage stretched out between massive stone pillars and huge, oak doors manifested themselves in the walls as he walked; but his target was one door at the end of that passage. 

********** 

He reached the door and, fearful of what he might find, took a deep breath; flexed his fingers on his sword's hilt; gripped it with both hands and edged around the partially opened door.   
Stepping into the chamber it appeared empty at first. In one look, he took in the table strewn with the remnants of a meal; candles burned on iron sticks and wall sconces - the source of the lights - the empty hearth and a high-backed chair facing the dais. His eyes were drawn to the dais and travelled up the steps to rest on the bed.   
"No!" he screamed, hurtling down the room. Taking the three steps in one bound, he fell on the back of Eadrys and yanked him bodily to the floor. "It's me you want, not her!"   
"A might hot-headed aren't you, Bowen?" Eadrys smirked. "I was just... um... getting to know your wife."   
"Shut up!" commanded Bowen, his sword at the earl's throat. Over one shoulder, he called out to Kara: "Are you alright?" His eyes widened; watered then whipped back to his adversary. He couldn't dwell on what he'd seen - she was naked.   
A meek voice answered from the bed: "I am now you're here. Watch your back, Bowen."   
The bile rose in his throat and his temper to meet it. "Get up!" he ordered. "As you see, I've brought my sword; if you're man enough to fight me. Or can you only frighten women?"   
Eadrys sat up; the blade still at his throat. "I've already used my sword... and what makes you think she was afraid? Some women like a little rough and tumble," he goaded.   
"Not my wife!" Bowen said harshly. "Now, will you fight me like a man?"   
"My blade is on the chest," Eadrys excused.   
"Then go and get it," letting the man up from the floor. Sparing a brief look at Kara, Bowen saw she'd covered herself and now sat huddled on the bed. His face must have given away what he felt for Kara's words served to remind him of his cause.   
"Bowen, finish this - for your sake, not mine. I love you," she added sincerely.   
Eadrys stood in the centre of the chamber; sword in hand; a sickly smile on his face and a swagger in his stance. "Come on then, Bowen; show your whore how much of a man you really are."   
Silently, Bowen descended the steps. He had to keep his nerve cold; could not allow Eadrys's taunts to destroy his purpose in the way Einon had done; this time there was no dragon to come to his aid. However, the hours he'd spent on the training field would serve him well; he was in peak condition; his muscles warmed up and flexed.   
The pair circled each other; Bowen's knuckles blanched as he gripped his sword, raised it and arced it down at Eadrys. The earl parried the blade; tried to cut under it to strike Bowen but the knight deflected the blow.   
Leaping to one side, Bowen sliced down, his blade gashing down on Eadrys's thigh, sending the man crashing to his knees. "You haven't been practicing," Bowen growled.   
"And you have I suppose," gasped the injured man.   
"All day!" he answered with a smirk.   
Painfully, Eadrys scrambled to his feet; anger and sweat stood out on his face as he swung his blade, missing Bowen by inches as the knight easily side-stepped the manoeuvre. Bowen though, didn't miss; he added a cut to Eadrys's left arm sending the man pitching away. Smacking the flat of his blade down on Eadrys's back, Bowen hurled his adage.   
"Only expose your back to a corpse!"   
Whirling in fear, the earl cursed his opponent. "Remember the Code, Bowen," he hissed.   
"Oh, I remember; seems you never learned it," rotating his shoulder as a reminder to the tiring man. "Nor did Einon!" and he leapt forward in a series of swift slashes at Eadrys.   
The earl was being backed to the hearth; he was unable to get in a thrust at Bowen, the knight was on the offensive with every move. In a last, desperate measure, Eadrys flung his sword at Bowen's feet.   
"I yield."   
"Pick it up!" ordered Bowen, determined not to be cheated of the finale.   
"You won't kill an unarmed man and I won't fight you. So what do we do now, Bowen?" as his smirk returned. "Divide the spoils perhaps," and he mistakenly turned his back on Bowen and went towards Kara.   
"Eadrys! Stop, or I swear I'll kill you!"   
But Eadrys refused; he kept on going.   
Kara moved too - in the opposite direction.   
Bowen came up behind Eadrys and pushed the tip of his blade against the man's back. "I'll do it," he threatened.   
"And break your Code? I think not," and he lunged at Kara. She evaded his grasp. "Come on, sweet, you know you like it re... " His voice died as he collapsed on the floor, leaving Kara staring at Bowen over the body.   
He shook his head in disbelief.   
A jewelled dagger slid from her hands and clanked on the flagstones. "I couldn't let you dishonour yourself, Bowen," she wailed as hot tears flooded her eyes. "I stole his dagger; he was too busy... fondling me to even notice."   
Sheathing his sword, Bowen stepped over the corpse and took Kara in his arms. "But... it would have been to avenge yours."   
"Listen, my love," as she stroked his cheek. "He didn't rape me. Oh, he may have done had you not arrived when you did; but we're not dealing in probabilities," and she sniffed back the tears.   
"But... you were naked... he was on top of you."   
"Clothed, Bowen; look," and she kicked at the body. Everything was still in place.   
Realisation dawned. "He goaded me. Forced me to fight without purpose; to betray the Code."   
"Oh there was purpose. You fought against wickedness and your Code accepts that."   
A weak smile tweaked his lips. "Yes, it does. 'His wrath undoes the wicked'," he quoted.   
"Draco would be proud of you," she said, kissing Bowen's cheek.   
"Are you?"   
Sincerely, she answered: "I've been proud of you since the day you rode into my village to rescue an injured boy; you acted selflessly."   
He smiled at her. "Then let's go home, and you can tell me how he kidnapped you this time."   
"Shouldn't we bury him first."   
"No; let him rot along with this place." 

********** 

She rode pillion behind him all the way home; clinging around his waist for comfort as much as safety. He'd loaned her his shirt to wear over her torn gown and it swamped her slender frame.   
Bowen was grateful for all that he had, and to learn that Eadrys hadn't actually raped Kara was a great relief to him; once was enough for any woman, a second time may have destroyed her.   
They talked together of many things as the summer sky darkened further and the stars became visible. Once, they halted just long enough to find the dragon constellation and Draco's own star before riding on again.   
Back at the fortress, no one it seemed was more pleased to see Kara safe and sound than Brother Gilbert. "The Saints be blessed," he avowed as Bowen rode into the compound to a reception committee headed by the priest. "Is she harmed in any way?" he shyly asked Bowen as the knight dismounted, for it hadn't escaped his attention that she was dressed in her husband's shirt.   
"She's well in all respects, Brother; I am pleased to say."   
"God is good," he assured everyone. "Kara, let me help you," and he gave his hands to help her dismount. "Your infant has missed you. I gave her goat's milk to try and pacify her; she spat it back at me!" he said disgruntled.   
Kara laughed. "At least you tried. I'll go to her."   
"Welcome home, Kara," Hewe greeted, adding a hug for the woman he'd known all of her life.   
"Thank you, Hewe," smiling in gratitude at the big man.   
Bowen escorted his wife into the lodge and back to their chamber. Having taken care of Gwyneth's needs, Kara turned her attention to her husband.   
"You'd best have this back," she said, pulling off the shirt; but the remnants of her own clothes came with it. Seeing Bowen staring at her, she assured him: "It's alright, Bowen; I am still your wife. His foul touch could not turn me from the anticipation of your tender hands."   
He clasped her naked body against the soft wool of his black tunic and held her tightly. "I will love you until my death," he vowed.   
Somehow, Kara knew that it was no empty promise.   
  



End file.
